


Threads of the Past

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here, she could let the sound of his voice wash through her, make her forget the rest of her day, the difficulties of coping with a world she still hasn't figured out how works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threads of the Past

She leans against him, one ear pressed against his chest so she could hear the rumbling purr of his voice. She's not quite sure what he's saying, never has been, but it doesn't matter. Here, she could let the sound of his voice wash through her, make her forget the rest of her day, the difficulties of coping with a world she still hasn't figured out how works.

Here, she can close her eyes, and block out light and color and movement. She can focus so intently on the sound of his voice that she can forget the feel of clothing, of air movement, even of her own sense of being trapped inside her skin. His voice reminds her of something that she's slowly forgetting, of a time when she wasn't like this. When she was whole and part of something more, instead of broken and struggling.

The feel of his hand on her shoulder, careful and cautious, would have jolted her out of her peaceful place a few weeks ago - but he keeps talking, lets her hold onto her anchor as he rubs her back, drawing her back into the world a little. Slowly drawing her back to awareness of her body, of skin that no longer feels too tight, like it did when she came back here.

He shifts, and she tightens her grip on his shoulders a moment as his hand leaves her back. Only for a moment, and then she's wrapped in warmth - a blanket, to keep her from getting cold, even though the house is kept warm enough. He talks constantly as he does so, though he falls silent soon after. She doesn't mind, not now, especially since it means he can talk more later.

* * *

Rossi listens as the breathing of the woman curled against him evens out and slows down, finally ceasing to be audible over his own voice. He isn't sure where he first met her, though he suspects it was at one of his book signings. It's possible he didn't even really meet her, so much as greeted her, and signed her copy of one of his books. It doesn't really matter at this point.

What does matter is that she remembered enough of him, of all people, to latch onto after whatever trauma had robbed her of everything. He hadn't been sure what to make of her the first time he knows he met her, in a hospital waiting room. She'd been hunched in on herself, curled in one chair, and he'd sat across from her in the only seat that wasn't occupied.

He hadn't asked her if she was all right, or even what was wrong, being more concerned with his own injured. Didn't even speak until JJ arrived, asking questions, to which he had no answers.

The woman had looked up at the sound of his voice, a spark of recognition in her eyes for a moment before she frowned, as if trying to remember something. Unfolding slightly from the chair, at least until he fell silent. It had been interesting, and he'd spoken to her, the puzzle distracting him from the worry and the waiting.

She never spoke, and never seemed to quite understand what he was saying, but she relaxed as he spoke, unfolding from the chair until she let her feet touch the floor. That made her wince, and she drew her feet back up, tucking them under her.

Her doctor came before the surgeon Rossi was waiting for, and surprise crossed his face a moment before he smiled, and asked Rossi if he wouldn't mind accompanying the young woman - a Jane Doe, with no one to claim her, and no one she'd responded to before.

He takes a deep breath, pulling himself back to the present, and rests a hand on her shoulder once more. She's asleep, or calm enough that he can stop talking for now. There's still no sign she actually understands what he's saying, but it's longer each time before she comes knocking on his door. He's not sure what to feel about that, but it's good to know he's helping her - and perhaps, too, it'll be enough for her to regain something of her memory in time.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 3 October 2012 at rounds_of_kink on LiveJournal.


End file.
